On Trial
by GroovyKat
Summary: After a disasterous mission that led to the death of the President Mark is arrested and put on trial for murder.
1. Chapter 1

**On Trial**

I started this one a little while ago.  Now that I am done with Revenge, I will stomp through this one.

Now I am not a lawyer so I may have messed up this a little.  If you have suggestions and nitpicks, please feel free to message me and let me know where I need to go and what to change.  

But, anyway.  Please read and enjoy.

Disclaimer:  No birds were really harmed in the making of this fic.  Uh, hang on ... I meant to say that I do not own G-Force or battle of the planets. 

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"Three months ago. On the 14th day of July, 2055, The President of the United States was killed inside his office at the White House when an alien attack vehicle crashed into the building armed with enough explosives to wipe out half of Washington. With him, 60 White House staff and tourists perished.

This attack had been meticulously planned and executed with the Defendant's Security Organization receiving a warning two hours previous. The order was given for the Special Forces team, known publicly as G-Force, to move out and assist the Secret Service Personnel in eliminating the danger to the Leader of the Free World and his aides.

Once airborne, and with specific orders for their assignment, the G-Force Eagle Commander, Mark Nathan Anderson – Defendant, and his team chose to abandon said orders and attend to a problem that was currently under control by civilian authorities.

The President, his family, and white House staff including his Security and Defense strategists, were left with no time for a retreat to safety.

During the course of this trial we will hear evidence of the Defendant's ineffectual leadership and tactical skills, as well as a disregard for those in world leadership. We will hear how he shows a pattern of defying strict orders, and for emotional and physical breakdowns during the course of assignments. I will show how he manipulates those working under his command to play by his own rules and carry his own personal agenda.

Mark Anderson – the Eagle – is a dangerous man in a dangerous position who must be brought to a swift justice to remove him from active duty where he is a detriment to himself, to those around him, and to anyone who isn't part of his overall plan.

The charge, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, is Negligent Homicide. Regardless of the lower counts on the docket, this is the only charge you should truly consider.

Our President is dead because of the direct actions of this individual. It is assassination, plain and simple.

Thank you."

Prosecutor Alex Mulroney gave a bow of the head in thanks to end his opening speech to the Jury, then took a seat at his mahogany desk. He made a quick adjustment of his Hugo Boss silk tie, flicked at the pants of his Navy Blue Pin-stripe suit by the same designer, and slid his eyes to where the Commander of the G-Force team sat forlornly at the Defense table.

He held no sympathy for the 19 year old. None at all.

Sam Rosenstein knuckled the table before him and slowly drew himself to a stand. Small in stature and less imposing in appearance to the tall and muscular Prosecutor, Rosenstein had a reputation for controlled and flawless Defense of a Client. He'd faced off against Mulroney numerous times, but never in a case so high-profile.

The Eagle was a man loved by millions, who held the respect of many of the World's most influential people. He was a pin-up boy for young girls, and a role model for many a young boy or man striving to become anything he wanted to be. His position held stronger ground than anyone in power until now – and this terrified the usually unmovable United States government officials. The loss of their leader at the hands of one they termed a reckless teenager brought out a cry for justice … and to show the world that noone was above the law.

This was set to become a lynching party for a young man who simply made a bad judgment call.

He placed a hand on Mark's shoulder and cleared his throat to begin.

"An American citizen cannot be called into armed service until he or she is eighteen years of age.

A soldier can't be asked to give his life for the good of the nation until the law deems his legally a man, at eighteen years of age.

A soldier must be on active duty well into his twenties before he is asked to lead a team and have the lives of his men and the world in his hands.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, I want to introduce you to my client, Mark The Eagle. He began training for the position as a toddler, was named leader of the G-Force team on his fourteenth birthday, on active duty at seventeen, People's champion shortly after his eighteenth birthday. Today, as a nineteen year old, he is an accused murderer.

Not a murderer who stalked the back alleys and darkened streets for his victims. Not a killer who lurked in a bell tower to rain a hail of bullets on an unsuspecting crowd. He did not break into homes to rape and murder young women, or prowl the nightclubs for an innocent victim to wreak any mother-complex anger onto.

Mark made a decision to use the means at his disposal to save the lives of 538 innocent passengers on a wounded A-380 passenger jet that was set to crash into a popular theme park just outside the city. On the ground there were an estimated 5,000 people, the majority of which children, who were simply out enjoying a family day in the sun. He made the decision to abandon his orders to save thousands of lives rather than continue to the White House, which, to his knowledge, had been evacuated.

Once the airline disaster had been averted, Mark and his team continued on to the White house in a late attempt to intercept the alien craft. He and his team then made every effort possible to rescue any persons inside the building.

What we will prove with no reasonable doubt to you is that the G-Force team were operating under false intelligence and well within the G-Force directives for rules of engagement. Yes, he ignored his orders. But he and his team were faced with the painful decision of saving thousands of lives over a National Monument that he had been assured was evacuated.

Our President lost his life, but it wasn't an assassination. It was a culmination of errors that resulted in his death … It shouldn't be placed squarely on the shoulders of my client.

Mark is a gifted and dedicated soldier who has proven time and time again that he would gladly offer his very own soul to save the life of another. His team follows him without hesitation. He has helped bring peace and safety to the entire galaxy and beyond. Mark is not a man who could kill another without remorse. He is just like you and I.

Thank you."

Rosenstein took a theatrical deep breath and lowered his head. He turned to his client, gave him a small smile and a took a seat beside him.

"You'll see them soon enough, Mark." He said softly noticing his client tracing a "G" symbol over and over again on his yellow note pad. "You'll be fighting Jason, flirting with Princess, watching cartoons with Keyop and eating Space burgers with Tiny in no time."

Mark nodded slowly and dropped the pen on the table. As the first witness entered the courtroom, he closed his eyes.

Surely this was all just a bad, bad dream.


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you ever get the feeling this whole court case is just some elaborate public relations stunt?" Jason muttered from the middle of the couch with a snarl as he held the remote ahead of him to click between stations.

"Yeah," Tiny answered with a mouthful of burger from his seventies-style "futuristic" chair at the far side of the room. "It has a real Michael Jackson feel to it."

Jason kept his snarl and shifted his eyes to the largest G-Forcer. "Who?"

There was a voiced beep from the drum kit on the stage near the back of the room. "Michael Jackson, singer." He struck the largest drum twice and continued, using the echo to drown out the worst of his Tourette-style ticks and beeps. "Charged with Child touching … Circus Court case."

Keyop's static method of speech was unnoticed by the other persons in the room. They had long learned to ignore the speech impediment and hear the meaning in his words. To his siblings, Keyop looked, acted, and spoke like any other 11-year-old boy.

Jason raised a brow at the tiny drummer, and then gave a shrug. "Let me guess, this was back in the early century?"

A grunt in the affirmative, muffled by lettuce and burger bun, came from Tiny. "Yeah, it was pretty much a circus. They had nightly courtroom recaps, with actors playing the roles of witnesses and whatnot to give the public the blow-by-blow account of proceedings. "He set the remainder of his burger on the table beside him and took a sip of his Coke. "Think of what they're doing with Mark, only with early century cinematic methods."

Jason shuddered, "you'd think there'd be more important stuff going on."

"Nothing," Keyop stuttered after his characteristic beep. "More important than Mark." He looked to his side as he heard a light sniffle over the slow strum of an acoustic guitar. "Princess, you okay?"

Jason leaned his elbow over the back of the couch to look at the stage. "Yeah, Prin, you've been far too quiet on this matter. That's totally unlike you."

Her hand on the guitar neck faltered in its hold, and she suddenly hugged the instrument and dropped to her knees. "Oh God, this is so unfair!"

Tiny was the first to react to her sob. He leapt quickly off his chair and ran to her, immediately pulling her into his arms. "Oh, Princess. I never considered what this must have been doing to you."

"I read today that the prosecutor is considering the Death Penalty on this," she sobbed. "He can't die, Tiny. They can't take him away from me … from us like that."

"Death Penalty?" Tiny choked back in shock. "What the Hell?"

Jason tossed the remote control onto the coffee table in front of him. "It'll never happen, guys. It's a threat, just a ploy to make him plead out what they want."

Tiny gave a low growl. "Who would have thought putting Mark up against the judicial system here would be more dangerous than sending him out against Spectra?"

"Death Row might be a better place for him, anyway. Can you imagine them throwing him into General population when half of the guys in there he put in there?"

Tiny shook his head. "They'd never do that to him." He shifted his eyes down to Princess, whose big green eyes were wide on him. "I promise you, Princess. He's going to be okay."

She gazed up tearfully at him and seemed to beg when she spoke. "I just want to see him, Tiny. I need to make sure he's okay, but they won't even let us talk to him, not even a phone call."

"They're just afraid that he'll talk us into changing our testimony to suit him," Jason muttered as he leaned over the couch for a straw, or toothpick, anything to chew on while he mused with his team. "Like, fuck, we're recounting exactly what's in our reports, how can we possibly change that without making ourselves look like liars?"

Keyop beeped again, "Jason sounds … broot … like he cares."

"Hey, Kid," Jason snorted back. "When you hear me say I give a shit, then you can make that assumption, until then, I am just pissed at the system."

Keyop gave a chuckle. "Convince yourself, not me."

Jason flicked an M&M at him in response.

Tiny picked Princess up from the floor and carried her over to the couch with Keyop following behind, practicing twirling his drumsticks as he walked. "Let's just be thankful that they're not separating us."

"They have," Princess huffed quietly in response. "If you take one, you may as well take us all."

Jason gave a short nod and leaned back heavily into the cushion. "What the fuck happened out there, guys?" His eyes moved between his three remaining teammates. "Just how the Hell did we screw it up so badly?"

"Zark told us the place was clear," Tiny answered as he leaned forward to grab a handful of M&M's from the candy dish. "Mark made the decision to save lives rather than a building."

"Yeah," beeped Keyop. "Zark … wrong. We didn't know."

Jason nodded and grabbed a drumstick off Keyop. Unable to find a suitable toothpick to chew on, he decided to fashion one from the stick by breaking it in half. Fortunately Keyop was too preoccupied with the discussion and his twirling of the other stick to notice. "So much for the brilliant tactical minds of the idiots in the White House."

Princess shushed him quietly. "Jase, that's no way to speak of the dead."

"Even if it's true?" He pulled a stray string of wood from the new toothpick, then popped it into his mouth. "If they had followed protocol and evacuated like we had been instructed they had, then the President would still be alive."

"If I hadn't rolled my ankle and fallen, the President would still be alive," she replied inside a sigh. "Mark came to protect me from the blast when he should have gone to the President."

Jason shook his head. "No, Princess. Mark gave me the order to tend to the President before he ran to you. I simply couldn't get to him in time."

Tiny popped an M&M into his mouth. "And if I'd remembered to take the airbrakes off my girl after leaving the Airbus, we could have gotten there in time." He moved an arm over Princess' shoulder. "We can sit here and play the 'blame me' game until the next millennium. We were all a part of this mess in some way or another, there is no sense in trying to take all the blame."

Princess screwed up her face and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Then why should Mark to have to face all this?"

"The joys of leadership," Jason muttered back, relaxing finally after finding a comfortable place in his mouth for the toothpick. "Don't worry, they'll get him off."

"Yeah guys," Tiny added. "We all need to make sure we all remember exactly what happened, and don't leave anything out when we testify."

Princess wriggled into Tiny, holding onto him like a giant teddy bear, and closed her eyes to asleep. He looked down at her and stroked her hair.

"So who is testifying first, anyway?"

Jason gave a shrug and shifted down in the chair to slouch with his feet on the coffee table. "I'm up on Monday."

Keyop stopped twirling and raised a brow. "You first?" He let out a cough to replace a beep and widened his eyes as he looked away. "Prosecution won't know … what hit 'em."

"You got that right," Jason purred as he pulled Princess' legs up over his to let her lie across the couch. "Bring it on."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a rainy morning when Jason pulled his G-2 mecha up to the Courthouse car park and turned off the engine. Security and the throng of people outside the boundary lines had been an insanely early test to his patience and caused him to defy the latest set of Mecha-rules set in place after the dismissal of Security Chief Anderson from the G-Force project. He threaded his fingers up underneath his helmet to remove a cigarette from behind his ear.

Fuck the anti-smoking mecha policy, he was stressed out.

He lit the cigarette with the gun-shaped lighter given to him by Princess the previous Christmas and relaxed heavily in the seat to feel the sudden rush of stimulants from what Keyop termed his 'lung candy stick".

This was going to be a very long couple of days.

Over the weekend, with the press being banned from the actual proceedings of the case, the team had decided to put their bracelets on an open send frequency, so they could each hear clearly and live exactly what was going on inside the courtroom. He placed the cigarette in his mouth and switched on his transponder bracelet.

"You got your ears on, guys?"

Individual coded flashes from the com-link from each the three listeners gave him his affirmative. He smiled, purred a threat to use the G-2 cannon to blow up the prosecution's vehicle if he pissed him off, then stepped out of the vehicle and strode into the building.

****

Jason couldn't help but look out for Mark. Even though he had specifically been told that there was to be no contact at all between them, Jason still wanted to double check the guy was okay … if only to reassure Princess so she'd stop being so upset.

His search didn't take too long. Mark was standing against the wall, his thumbs in the belt of his nameless charcoal suit pants, and his head hung low. Against his better judgment and orders, Jason stalked quickly through the hallway towards his Commander.

"So is this a good place to pick up chicks?"

Mark blinked in surprise and quickly raised his head. "Jason, man, we're not supposed to talk to each other."

Jason gave a sly smile and exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke. "Yeah, and I'm smoking in a government building. What's the bet noone says anything."

Mark rolled his eyes and sighed. "How's everyone holding up?"

"They're more concerned about you. Tiny is permanently trying to stop Princess from crying, Keyop is working on his hundredth rescue plan to break you out of jail. Zark has been deactivated for upgrade and the Chief," He sighed. "We haven't heard from him since he was dismissed a month ago."

Mark nodded with a small smile. "Tell Tiny to give Princess a long hug and assure her I'm really okay and that she shouldn't worry. Tell Keyop that the change of guard is at midnight and midday every day, and the standard issue weapon is a 9mm Glock and Barrett M99 assault rifles for the tower guards."

"M99, eh? I wouldn't mind getting me one of those." Jason folded his arms against his chest and rolled his wrist at Mark to show his communicator. "They're listening if you have any further messages. You just know each of them are clamouring around the radio desperate to say something to you."

"You're wired? Jesus Jason," Mark whined. "If they find out they'll have all your heads. That's close enough to Witness tampering for you all to be arrested."

Jason seemed to ignore the warning. "No messages? Not even an 'I finally want to admit that I love you and want you to come to my trailer on conjugal visits' to Princess?"

Mark coughed. "That's not even remotely funny, Jason."

He shrugged, "I wasn't trying to be funny." He let his eyes scan the hallway. "So how are you, anyway? And I don't want to hear any of that 'I'm doing great' lying bullshit."

Mark tilted his head to the side and sighed heavily. "When I'm not trying to defend myself against guys who think it's cool to try and fight the Eagle, I'm in my cell wondering just what the Hell went wrong."

"They're giving you Hell?"

Mark sighed and lifted his sleeve to show a white cast on his wrist. "If I fight back, I'll kill them, and how will that go with my defense? I am taking an absolute beating in there."

"General population?"

"Only in the exercise yard."

Jason angrily flicked his cigarette butt on the marbled floor beside him. "This is bullshit. You'd think they'd give you a break, considering what good you've done for the world."

Mark shrugged. "Yeah, you'd think so."

The two stood silently together for a few moments, neither knowing what else to say. As Mark opened his mouth to start a new conversation, his Lawyer interrupted them.

"Come on, Mark. They're waiting."

Mark nodded and extended his hand to Jason for a friendly shake. "Go easy on them in there, Jase."

Jason took the offered shake and gave his Commander a wink. "Big ten, Skipper."

He took a few steps toward the courtroom door, then stopped and turned back to Jason. "Tell her…Tell her I miss her."

"She knows, Mark."


	4. Chapter 4

Note:  Anything in Italics is a flashback

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"State your name for the court."

Jason gave a shrug and drummed his fingers on the left banister of the Witness Stand. "Jason Anderson."

"And your role on the G-Force team?"

"Second in command to Mark and gunner." He bit at a piece of dry skin on his lip. "I am responsible for the armoury on board the Phoenix and for the deployment of all missiles."

Rosenstein gave an appreciative nod and cradled his hands in front of himself. "You were present for the pre-mission briefing and subsequent mission abortion with your Commander, yes?"

Jason took a sip from a glass of water and nodded. "Yeah, we attend most briefings before and after missions."

"'We' being the entire G-Force squad?" Rosenstein interrupted gently.

Jason nodded. "The Chief preferred we were all present in the event that a catastrophe incapacitated one or more of the command team. It saved any confusion during the missions, also." He heard a snort from the Prosecutor and flicked his eyes at him in annoyance. "Have you got something to say, ass—"

"In your own words, what is your account of the mission in question?" Rosenstein interrupted before Jason could finish his insult. "Starting on the Phoenix with the discovery of the wounded aircraft."

Jason cast his eyes to a painting of the civil war on the wall, then closed his eyes.

*********

_"We look to intercept with the craft about 300 miles off the cost, Commander."_

_He watched Mark out of the corner of his eye shift in his seat, then nod his thanks to Princess._

_"Is it just the one craft? Or are we looking at an entire Spectran platoon?"_

_Princess brought a concentrating finger to her lips and looked harder at her screen. "So far it's just the one, Mark. But I'll do a sweep to make sure there isn't anything coming at us from another angle."_

_"Thanks, Princess. Jason, what have you got?"_

_He grunted, struggling with the calculations in his mind. "These figures don't make a scrap of sense, Skip. Are you sure Zark's intel is trustworthy?"_

_Mark's voice suddenly sounded out from over his shoulder. "What seems to be the problem?"_

_"I dunno, it all seems like a load of gibberish to me." He glanced off the papers and looked at his monitor. From beside him, Jason could hear Princess quietly chiding Keyop for something. He ignored it and went back to the figures in front of him. "Ahh fuck it, I'll just wing it."_

_Mark leaned over the console beside him, appearing to do calculations of his own. He silently whispered the figures and double-checked them against Jason's. "Yeah, I think you're right. We'll just ignore Zark's figures and go with yours."_

_He snorted and rolled the shaft of his shuriken along his lip. "Defying the robot? Feeling alright there, Mark?"_

_Mark shrugged, "the damn thing is so far out of date that it's prehistoric. I don't think I could trust any intel from it. Double check everything for me, Jase, okay?"_

_"Yeah … yeah, okay." While he had no intention of double-checking anything, he shrugged an acceptance to Mark's orders._

_A gasp exploded from Princess' mouth behind him, which made Mark immediately abandon his console to check in with her. Jason rolled his eyes to himself, figuring Princess was overreacting to something on her radar, and leaned in to Tiny._

_"So how long, do you think, until they'll stop playing their little game and actually start shagging?"_

_Tiny snorted in amusement, "2-1 it'll happen somewhere in their forties."_

_"10-1 that I get her before he does."_

_Tiny's brows shot skyward. "I didn't know you were interested."_

_"I can't fight off the panty flash forever, Big Guy."_

_Both men jumped when they heard their Commander swear behind them, then Princess shush. Before they could seek the reason why, Mark pushed his way in between them and fisted a large blue button. The entire window in front of them immediately flashed into a replica of Princess' radar screen._

_"Tiny, I need you to make contact with the co-pilot on that plane, find out how in the Hell the Captain ended up hanging outside his window, and what circuit damage they've sustained. See if we can be of any help to them." He maintained focus on the image ahead of them and let out a growl. "Keyop, calculate the airspeed and direction of that plane. If they are headed toward anywhere there's civilians on the ground, I need to know ASAP!"_

_Jason stood up next to Mark and tsked loudly in his ear. "I don't think we exactly have the time to talk down a passenger jet, Mark. Did you forget we have an assignment?"_

_"There's 538 souls on board that thing, Mark," Tiny interrupted quickly. "There was a bird strike on the front window, the decompression sucked the Captain out of his seat. The Co-pilot is asking for our help in bringing her down, navigation is shot."_

_"Jase," Mark breathed slowly. "Have they evacuated the White House?"_

_"If they followed standard procedure, then yeah. But I'll check with Zark."_

_Princess spoke up behind them. "I've already contacted Centre Neptune. They confirm the complete evacuation of the White House." She seemed close to tears, and while Jason wasn't looking at her, he assumed she was crying._

_"Decision is yours, Mark. Save a national landmark and cost the Federation some money, or do what we're paid to do and save the innocent."_

_Mark nodded and pulled his wings closed at his chest in thought. "Tiny, Keyop, what do you have for me?"_

_Tiny spoke up first. "I've done some simulation on the A-380. I think I can manually bring her in for a landing. You just need to get me on board."_

_Keyop ducked in between Jason and Mark and began to nervously beep and tick, stuttering to try and get out his report. "Headed…to theme park. Thousands on … broot … ground." His hands shook holding a computer print-out. "twenty minutes to impact."_

_Mark coolly slid his eyes to his second. "Jason, can we get Tiny and I on board and send you, Princess and Keyop to intercept the mecha at the White House?"_

_"Fuck the White House, Mark. It's clear."_

_Mark lowered his head and sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, it was obvious he was formulating a plan. "Tiny, slow this girl down to intercept with the jet. You go with Keyop in the G-4, I'll sit on your wing in the G-1." He turned to Jason. "I need you and Princess to remain back at a safe distance for pick up of the G-1 and 4 when we have Tiny on board. Monitor the Whitehouse craft. If you have to leave us to intercept, do it. We can catch up."_

_Jason nodded and tipped his visor at Princess. "Looks like it's just you and me, babe. Do you think we can keep our hormones in check and stay focused?"_

_He heard her cough at the same time he felt the back of Mark's hand hit him in the chest. "Now isn't the time, Jason."_

_"Then go."_

*************************************

"After that, Mark, Keyop and Tiny took the G1 and G-4 mechas to help with the Jet."

Rosenstein nodded in thanks. "So your Commander was under the assumption that the White House had been cleared of all Personnel?"

Jason gave a nod and removed a shuriken from his wing. "That's what Princess told him, anyway. He obviously wasn't going to doubt her word, it's usually her or I that communicate with Neptune on those matters." He stuck the end of the feather in his mouth.

"Uh, I'll have to ask you to surrender your weapon, Condor. It's against the law to—"

"Then throw me in jail next to Mark."

Rosenstein looked at the Judge for assistance. "Your Honour?"

The judge nodded toward the Bailiff. "You'll get it back when you've finished with your testimony, Mr. Anderson."

Jason sighed, curled a lip, and flicked the feather into the Bailiff's terrified hand. "You lose it, I lose you."

Rosenstein cleared his throat in disapproval. "So your orders were to monitor the enemy craft heading to the White house?"

"Yeah."

"Then why did you detract from your Commander's orders?"

****************************

_"Jason, do you think they'll make it?"_

_Jason looked through his brows at the visual display unit above their heads. The G-1 and G-4 were seconds from intercept and looked to be ready for an easy docking. His eyes shifted back down to the radar at Princess' station. "Doubting your boyfriend, Princess?"_

_He didn't have to look at her to know she had turned beet red and had set both hands on her hip in an attempt to look disgusted rather than embarrassed by the comment – it was a position she adopted almost daily with him now. "He is NOT my boyfriend."_

_"Have patience, babe. He'll get around to introducing you to his lower brain soon enough."_

_"Ugh," she humphed in true disgust. "Can we please get back to work?"_

_Jason snorted and triumphantly slapped both hands on the console. "They've safely intercepted. Tiny should be onboard anytime now."_

_She leaned over his shoulder to look at the radar image of the White House. "Forty-five minutes to impact. Should we engage?"_

_"It'll only take us twenty to get there if we make this girl motor. Let's get the guys back on board, first. If we need to go fiery, we're going to need them."_

_She sucked in her lower lip to bite down on it. Jason's eyes didn't miss the move – damn it was hot._

_"Jase, do you really think Mark is … you know? Interested?"_

_"I thought you wanted to concentrate on work?"_

_She nodded. "Sorry."_

_Jason flicked on the main communication line. "Skipper, what's the word? We're pushing for time, here."_

_Mark's response was contaminated by static. "For…out…ss …mo…t…ouse. Ti..an…… nav…… no…eed….wait… copy?"_

_Princess and Jason looked, wide-eyed at each other. "What did he just say?"_

_Jason flicked the comline off then on again. "Mark, you'll have to repeat, we are receiving mostly static. Did you say you wanted us to stand by?"_

_His response was marred by heavier static._

_"Princess, can you fix it?"_

_She frowned. "Not in five seconds I can't. Keyop is the electronics kid, not me."_

_"Mark … Mark. We can't hear your orders. All we can hear is that you want us to wait. We'll stand by for your return."_

_Princess pursed her lips and titled her head, "are you sure we should wait?"_

_"The only complete word I could get out of that mess was wait. What do you think?"_

_She shrugged. "It's your call."_


	5. Chapter 5

"So as far as you knew, your Commander had ordered you and the Swan to stand by for their return?"

Jason took a deep breath. "Yeah, I don't understand what the problem was with the communications line, but we really couldn't hear him."

Rosenstein gave a self-congratulating look to the jury. "So you missing a safe interception of the alien craft was a communications error, not an order violation from your Commander?"

He shrugged. "If it means I can blame the robot, yeah."

"I'm not assigning blame to anyone, Condor."

Jason had to laugh. "Then why the Hell are we here?"

"Because the Prosecution are so Hell bent on revenge that they want to apply misdirected justice on an innocent man, labelling him guilty before he's tried."

From his stand, Mulroney groaned, then rose from his seat. "Objection – relevance?"

Judge Stone lazily waved his gavel. "Sustained."

Rosenstein shrugged. "Withdrawn. Were you finally able to clarify the orders from the Eagle?"

****

_He watched her innocently leaning over the pilot control, her legs crossed loosely at the ankle. She supported herself with one hand pressed on the console, while her other hand was to her mouth, index finger against her lips. It looked like she was worrying about the boys again, he could see her eyes on the vitals monitors at Tiny's station._

_"You worry too much."_

_"Hmm?" she hummed as she pivoted on her heel and leaned her rump against her hands now holding onto the console for support. " I was just looking at the new missile controls."_

_"Yeah, they took away my big red button." He moaned._

_"How are we for time?"_

_He looked down at Princess' console and shrugged. "We're eight minutes from our safe time."_

_"The guys won't make link-up in with enough time to spare. We'll miss it." Her bottom lip began to roll along her top, a sign she was concentrating hard. Beside the left side of her skirt hem, the console flashed red, a proximity warning that the two mechas were making their way back on board._

_Jason spun her chair around and shrugged. "Orders are orders, Prin. I'm sure he knows what he's doing."_

_She looked over her shoulder at the console and gave a thoughtful sigh. "The guided birds, what's your target range?"_

_"500 miles, but they're set at mach 1. They'll never get there in time."_

_"But can you target them accurately?"_

_He smirked. "Within an inch of the target, why?"_

_She turned her head to him, but remained leaning backward on the console. "Keyop and I were playing around with the governor chips last week during inventory. If I remove it, we can increase the speed to almost mach 2."_

_Jason's eyes lit up. "Yeah?"_

_She nodded with an innocently coy smile. "We risk premature ignition because of friction heat, but if you keep it disarmed until just before impact, it just might work." Her fingers tapped on the console. "It's only theoretical, but it's worth a try. What do you think?"_

_He pushed himself out of her seat and rapidly approached her. "I think…" He roughly grabbed her helmet and pulled her into a hard, grateful kiss. "That I love you."_

_She gasped in startled shock and jerked roughly away from him, just in time to hear a low and angry snarl from the back of the Command deck._

_"What the HELL is going on here?"_

_Jason ignored the voice, which was obviously from a rather pissed off Eagle walking in at the wrong time. "Do it."_

_Princess shakily wiped at her mouth and nodded, her eyes wide and stunned. She didn't even spare a glance at Mark as she ran by him. "I'll need at least a minute … Keyop, come with me."_

_"Just let me know, Princess." Jason dropped into his seat and hastily punched in the firing codes for the missiles. "God. I hope this works."_

_Mark seemed pissed off. "Just what game are you playing, Jason?"_

_"Sink your battleship," he answered distractedly as his eyes and hands moved fast to set firing coordinates._

_"I'm not asking for the joke of the day," he spat in response. "I gave you a specific order to leave us and intercept the Spectran mecha. I come back to find that not only are you blowing off my command, again, but you're making out with Princess."_

_Jason smirked and pulled up a targeting screen on his console. "Jealous?"_

_Mark grabbed hard at Jason's shoulder and spun him roughly in the chair to face him. His lip curled in to a snarl. "I gave you a specific order. That order did NOT include goofing off and playing team whore."_

_Jason's smirk remained. "I'd be very careful of the terminology you use when Princess is involved, Mark. She might get offended." He pulled out of Mark's grip and turned back to his task. "And anyway, I wasn't making out with her, I was just telling her how amazing she is, and how she's saved your ass again."_

_"What?!" Mark answered incredulously. "You have got to be kidd … No, you know what. Forget it, I don't even want to know."_

_"Good," he answered as he closed an eye for better focus on the centre target. "Because I really need to get this right, I've only got one chance at this."_

_Princess' voice chirped excitedly though their wrist-coms. "Okay, Jason. It's all set. Keyop and I are on the way back."_

_"That's my girl," he muttered as he squeezed the joystick._

_Mark was silent, and even when he heard the soft sweep of the command deck doors open, Jason heard little more than a feminine gasp and a hushed tease from Keyop. He knew, however, that Mark was giving him a hard stare. He could feel it, the daggers of a glare, stabbing into his neck and back._

_"Okay, Princess, let's see if this works."_

_He pressed his new, orange button._

************************************************

"You were off by more than an inch, though."

Jason sucked in a small click of air through the side of his mouth. "Microburst. A guidance missile's greatest nemesis. "

Rosenstein nodded. "It struck the Whitehouse lawns…."

"Which alerted the craft to our presence and initiated a firing storm against the building," Jason finished. "We arrived about five minutes too late."

"Please tell the jury what happened on your arrival to the White House."

************************************************

_"Christ she's hard to control, Mark."_

_Mark struggled beside him for control of the Phoenix. She was a their top speed power outside of firebird mode, yet they were barely flying faster than an F-18 jet at top speed. "Princess, do a system sweep, see if we've lost hydraulics, or the computer, or .." he grunted in exertion, "anything."_

_She was heard to softly command Keyop to do something and to tap away at her console keyboard. "All systems on line and operational. There are no failure warnings at all."_

_"Check again, Princess."_

_She sighed in frustration. "I've already rechecked everything three times, everything is normal."_

_"Check again," he snapped at her in frustration. "That's an order, not a request."_

_She inhaled sharply and said quietly, "yes, Commander."_

_Jason noticed the hurt in her tone. "That was a bit harsh, Mark."_

_Mark held the yoke hard in to his chest. "I don't exactly have the time to be pleasant and cordial about it. If she wants to question my command, that's her problem."_

_"Be pissed at me, Skipper, not her, okay. I kissed her, not the other way around."_

_"That has nothing to do with it." Mark caught sight of the White House and gasped. "Oh good God."_

_Jason glanced upward at the cockpit window and let out a long, "Fuuuuuck, we're too late. Anderson's going to have our asses."_

_Both Mark and Jason stared hard at the smoking and destroyed building in front of them. "Thank God they evacuated," Mark managed finally, horrified at what impact losing another national monument would have on the American public. "Princess, where is the ship, now?"_

_"It…It self destructed in the centre of the building, Commander." She let out a sudden yelp, "Oh my God!"_

_Mark spun in his seat, "What?"_

_"There are still people in that building, Mark!"_


	6. Chapter 6

Rosenstein hooked his hands behind his back and rolled onto the heels of his feet. "Did you determine the cause of your ship's inability to reach maximum speed?"

Jason shook his head and shrugged. "Not my job. You'll have to check with Mark or Tiny."

Rosenstein flicked a look at his client, cleared his throat and turned back to Jason. "How was the Swan able to determine, so quickly, that there were still people in the building at the time of your arrival?"

Jason dipped the tip of his finger into his glass of water, then flicked it against the table in obvious boredom. "She was manning both mine and her stations. I have the infra-red and heat sensors set to sweep 1000 feet around the Phoenix any time we are landing. It saves any nasty surprises. I assume she was watching my monitors, though I can't say for sure."

"If she was watching your monitors, would she have been able to determine the exact number and location of these individuals?"

"She'd be able to tell if they were shagging in the closet or hiding in the bushes armed to the tit with explosives and whatever," he answered with a smirk. "That's their purpose."

"Could she tell the identity?"

"No, we haven't been able to come up with anything that sophisticated yet."

Rosenstein nodded and paced in front of Jason. "How immediately did your Commander react to this new information?"

"He had us out of the Phoenix within 20 seconds. As per the normal pairing, I was teamed with Keyop, he with Princess."

"What were your orders?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "What do you think?" When Rosenstein cleared his throat in irritation at his attitude, Jason gave a sigh. "Rescue, obviously."

"Once inside the White House, what lead to the President's death?"

**************************************

_Keyop beeped and coughed as he and Jason scavenged the upper floor for survivors. As yet, they'd found nothing but body parts and twisted metal inside the rubble. "This … is bad, Jason."_

_"Fucking useless officials, why didn't they clear this place?"_

_"Princess … said all clear. Zark confirmed."_

_Jason swore and kicked at an overturned metal flowerpot. "Did the useless bucket of scrap even check, or did he just assume they went by the protocol?"_

_Keyop brooted and beeped before responding. "Beats me."_

_Both birds coughed as a wind gust brought a cloud of dust and debris upward. The smell of burning hair, flesh, electricity and Trinitrotoluene in the air was suffocating, and more than once one had to lean on the other for support as they searched for open air._

_"Is Princess sure there were survivors, or was it wishful thinking on her part, again?" Jason coughed seeing yet more death in front of him. "I haven't seen one person even intact."_

_Keyop nodded, but said nothing. To Jason it appeared as if he was either too upset to speak coherently, or if he was simply unable to find a response._

_From below them, Mark's voice called out. "Keyop! Princess needs you down here. We've got multiple injured and part of the ship is intact … armed with explosives." Although the smoke and sounds of twisting metal was distorting the origin of his voice, Mark's shadowed image though the smoke gave Jason and Keyop his location._

_Jason yelled down an answer. "There's nothing … noone left up here, Mark."_

_"Then get down here, I have the President and his aides …alive."_

_They crouched beside a large hole in the floor and peered down in to a room far more littered with debris than where they were standing. Jason slapped Keyop lightly with the back of his hand and pointed at a clear space on the floor where they could safely land. Keyop gave a firm nod, then stood and stepped forward. His wings splayed up and outward as they caught the draft to cushion his landing. Jason made sure he landed safely, then stood and followed his youngest team mate._

_The first image to greet Jason on the lower floors was Princess, her eyes rid rimmed and wet, holding a blood soaked, torn teddy bear tightly against her chest._

_"Oh Christ," Jason muttered painfully. "He has a daughter."_

_"Had," Mark sadly whispered from behind him. "She didn't make it." He cleared his throat, coughed and hoarsely reacted to the sound of oncoming emergency vehicles. "Keyop, make sure noone enters this site until you receive an all-clear from Princess that the remaining explosives are stable and the threat of detonation is neutralized. Princess, what do you think the blast radius is?"_

_Jason couldn't see her, but he heard her wings flap against her hip as she shifted her arms to visually answer the question._

_"I'm not too sure, Commander. Probably a few hundred feet."_

_"Is it possible you could check for me?"_

_Jason wasn't sure, but he could have sworn that Mark was deliberately trying to sound patronistic._

_Yeah, he was pissed off._

_"Mark, man," he warned softly as Princess dropped her head along with the teddybear and leapt over the rubble into the remaining shell of the mecha. "You'll beat yourself up if she lets one of those explosives off and dies in there."_

_Mark turned sharply. "What?!"_

_"You heard me." He stepped over a smouldering wooden beam towards a small group of motionless bodies on the floor. "I'd hate to think that was the last thing she ever heard you say."_

_"Can we please focus on the task?"_

_Jason gave a shrug, "I was just commenting, that's all. Now, where is the man I didn't vote for?"_

_"He's just beyond the desk." Mark pointed and manoeuvred over an upturned desk chair. "He's not looking so good, though."_

_There was a sudden crash from falling debris behind them, then an urgent cry from Princess._

_"Mark!"_

_Jason and his Commander immediately spun to look at her, their attempt at rescue halted for the meantime. Mark answered her somewhat impatiently, although his voice held a twinge of concern. "Yes, Princess?"_

_Princess certainly didn't seem to let the impatient tone slow her rapid move toward them. "It's going to blow, there's nothing I can do. We've only got a few…" She let out a sharp cry of pain as a twisted piece of metal snagged at her boot and brought her crashing to the ground. She rolled on to her back and clutched at her ankle. "Get out of here, NOW!"_

_A small explosion at the rear of the wreckage alerted Jason and Mark of the urgency of her warning._

_Princess was only feet from the main charge._

_"Princess, hold on, I'm coming!" Mark splayed his wings and leapt into the air towards her. "Jason, get to the President!"_

_Jason paused for a second, torn between concern for Princess, and to his duty. Before he had a chance to turn to protect the president, he was blown off his feet and into the wall by the main charge's detonation shockwave._

*****************************************

"Is that the last thing you recall?" Rosenstein queried quietly.

Jason closed his eyes, remembering opening his eyes to see Mark lying unconscious over the top of Princess' limp body. Beside him, the President coughing his last breath and managing a last 'you failed me' gurgle before succumbing to his injuries and dying with his fist locked tight on the very tip of his wing.

He opened his eyes again and cleared his throat. "The next thing I remember was Keyop's visor in my face and the little guy asking if I was okay."

"You, Mark and Princess were then airlifted to your base?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "That's what they say."

Rosenstein let out a breath and let silence hang over the courtroom for a moment. Jason took this moment to run one hand through his hair and let the other tap against the Helmet he had sitting on his knee.

"There was really nothing that we could have done." He lowered his head and sighed.

Rosenstein returned to his desk and stood next to Mark. "Tell me. If you had stuck to your original orders, and exploded the target on the coordinates given by the United States Secret Service agents, would the President and the White House been saved."

"Yeah, he would have been." Jason's tone of voice alluded to an unsaid 'but'.

Rosenstein picked up on it instantly. "But?"

"But we'd have lost over one-thousand civilians in the aircraft accident."

"Do you agree with your Commander's actions on the day?"

Jason looked toward the jury and sat up straight in his seat. "Yes. He made a decision to risk 60 lives over 1000. I agree completely."

Rosenstein looked pleased. He gave a nod to Jason, then one to the judge. "No further questions, Your Honour."


	7. Chapter 7

"You don't have a lot of respect for authority, do you, Mr. Anderson?"

Jason's attention snapped away from the Jury and fell onto Mulroney – He wasn't expecting to have to answer the Prosecutions case until after a ten-minute smoke break. He processed the question for a few seconds, then slouched in his seat. "Depends on who's barking the orders."

Mulroney turned his face towards Mark, but kept his eyes on Jason. "In this case I'll say the Defendant was the one 'barking' orders."

Jason shrugged and looked down at the glass of water in front of him. "If I agree with him I have all the respect in the world for him."

"And if his orders aren't to your liking?"

Jason smirked and raised his eyes just enough to look at the Prosecutor through his brows. "Then I give him Hell until he either caves in to the right decision, or until the mission is over."

Mulroney raised his brows in complete feigned fascination. "Really? So … even though the Defendant is your commanding officer, out ranking you by two stars I believe, you still question his orders on a constant basis?"

"Every one needs a thorn in their side … I have chosen to be that thorn."

Mulroney nodded and walked over to the Witness stand. He leaned against the railing in between Jason and the Jury in a conversationally relaxed manner. "No, really. Is it because you think you could do a better job?"

"Well that's…"

"I mean, really," Mulroney continued trying not to let Jason get a word in. "Respect is earned, isn't it? Just because Anderson gave his pretty little protégé a higher rank doesn't mean he has to be respected, right?"

Jason gave an untrusting raise of the brow. "Yeah, you gotto earn it. But I never said…"

"And if you have to constantly question his orders, then obviously you doubt not only his leadership skills, but also his tactical intelligence."

Jason flicked his eyes to Mark, who for his part seemed fairly uninterested in the proceedings. Currently, Mark was focused on using a pen to scratch underneath his cast. He caught Jason's look and raised his eyes to him, slowly giving a slow blink of the eyes to tell him to continue.

Jason slowly slid his gaze back to the Prosecutor. "It's not going to work."

Mulroney leaned both elbows back in the railing of the witness stand. He was most definitely faking a relaxed and friendly stance in an attempt to lead Jason into saying what Prosecution wanted to hear. "What's not going to work?"

"I might question Mark, and constantly blow off his orders, but that isn't because he's not a tactical genius." Jason clicked through the side of his mouth. "He and I just have … different ways of wanting to do this."

"And you feel that your way is the right way?"

Jason opened and closed his mouth sensing a trap, but not being able to totally see it. "Sometimes you just need to pull out the big guns and say screw the diplomacy."

Mulroney nooded, "This is war after all, isn't it, Mr. Anderson?"

Jason nodded in total agreement. He leaned against the banister beside the prosecutor and smiled. "Exactly! Sometimes the jerks just don't get it right, and you have to change the rules and do it your own way."

"Oh of course, Anarchy and all that." He looked at his nails distractedly. "Who knows better than the ones who are out there fighting, right? Surely not the stuffy suit wearing officials in office."

"Damn straight."

"And if you want to prove you know it better than the one who makes the orders, then you have to defy them, right?"

Jason seemed to catch on, "uh."

"Useless tacticians, ineffectual leaders … who needs them?"

Jason roughly sat up straight in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Nice try, but I'm not going to say it."

Mulroney tilted his head toward Jason, "Say what, Mr. Anderson? That you disrespect your Commander's leadership skills so vehemently that you continually question his orders?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you are constantly at odds with him over the decisions he makes within the course of a mission."

Jason rolled his eyes in frustration. "Let's just say I'm a hot head, okay?"

Mulroney nodded and pulled himself up from the Witness stand to approach his desk. "So not only are you saying you doubt his tactical skills, but his actual leadership is ineffectual, also."

Jason's eyes widened, "huh?"

"Well, it's obvious your Commander doesn't know how to control his subordinates, doesn't it?" He held up a thick manila folder. "My assistant and I lost count of how many reports have been filed against you."

"Hey, most of those are driving violations that have nothing to do with him."

"Then perhaps your Commander should have considered revoking your driving privileges until you learned to drive like a rational human being."

Jason gave a sly smirk. "He's not authorized to make that decision. Read his bios carefully, genius. Mark is our Field Commander. Anderson is the man in charge outside the Phoenix."

Mulroney pursed his lips, "so the Eagle thinks he is beyond Anderson's command, then?"

Jason had to laugh. "That boy-scout? Oh please. He'd kiss Anderson's order's asses before he'd disobey them."

"But," Mulroney corrected triumphantly. "Isn't that why we're here, because he deliberately disobeyed orders?"

Jason raised both hands in a manner to stop the Prosecutor, "Oh, that's different. There were innocent people about to be killed … And if the President's…"

"Hasn't your Commander got a history of changing the orders in the middle of a mission?"

Jason let out an impatient sigh. "When it's warranted, yes."

"So are we to believe that it is warranted in ninety-percent of your missions to date?" Mulroney stood with his hands on his hips and looked toward the jury. "It is hard to find a mission report where he's followed all orders without deviation."

Jason blinked and shot a glance at Mark. He could tell by the way Mark was leaning the elbow of his good arm on the desk supporting his forehead and looking painfully in the Jury's direction, that he wasn't happy with the way things were currently progressing.

"Look, unless you're out there in the mess with us, you just can't issue an order and expect it to be followed to a tee. Sometimes things beyond our control force him to change the plan. Spectra doesn't exactly ask us for a set of game rules before they attack."

Mulroney nodded, "I suppose not." He rolled his head to look at Mark. "Although one would expect that he'd at least prioritize …"

Rosenstein stood quickly. "Objection, your honour. Is he questioning the witness or berating my client?"

The Judge nodded. "Sustained, the jury will disregard the last statement."

Mulroney cleared his throat. "Hasn't your Commander's changes, at times, jeopardized the successful completion of your assignment."

Jason looked upward to consider the question. "I … I don't think so," he responded carefully. "No, not to my knowledge, anyway."

"What about the assignment where you were to escort the Blue Hawk aircraft…"

Jason let out a long groan. "Oh, that."

"Didn't your Commander abandon you and the team inside the Phoenix and fly off after the Rigan Fighter jets?"

He coughed, "yes…"

"And wasn't he specifically ordered to stand down and ignore the Rigan team?"

"Well…yeah, I…"

"And wasn't the mission placed in jeopardy while the Defendant had a meet and greet session with Colonel Cronus?"

"Apparently Cronus gave Mark some good intelli…"

"And didn't that aircraft ultimately end up being destroyed before it was even delivered?"

"Yeah, but that was…"

"And this wasn't the only time, was it?"

Jason grunted. "Oh come on, those assholes nearly collided with the Phoenix. It pissed Mark off, so he took off to defend our ship."

"Ahhhh," Mulroney purred. "So they pissed him off? Does your Commander have an emotional stability problem as well?"

Jason's eyes widened, but he shook his head. "No more than any normal human being."

"But he shows irrational behaviour when his temper has been teased?"

"We all do."

"How many times has he quit G-Force?"

Jason's lips pursed and he made a clicking noise in an attempt to look as much like he didn't want to answer the question as possible. "I don't want to answer that. Can't I plead the fifth or something here?"

The Judge shook his head and waved his finger to tell him to answer.

"Two, three times? I really don't know, man. I don't keep a tally of every time he does something." He grunted. "Ask Princess, she seems to know his every move."

"Mmhmmm, yes. The Swan." Mulroney waggled a brow. "Just what is the relationship between those two?"

Jason shrugged, "let me just open up her diary and check the latest entry…I don't know. I don't exactly sit with Mark at the bar and ask if he's screwing her or not."

"But you know enough to taunt him about her."

Jason shook his head and shrugged. "Half the planet wants to get her in bed, me included. Why should I believe for an instant he's immune? Besides, it's more to tease her than him."

"But it angers him? You stated in your testimony that he was upset because you kissed her."

"If I had a Crystal ball, wore a turban, and called myself Madame Zhara, then yeah, I could say if he was pissed off because I tasted Princess' cherry lip gloss." He was becoming flustered. "For all we know, he was pissed off because he was called in to action while he was getting some action elsewhere. I don't know … I can only ASSUME why he was mad."

Well," Mulroney purred as he made his way back to his table. "I' m sure we can say it isn't because you went against his order, now, can we? I mean, that'd be hypocritical, wouldn't it." He looked over his shoulder at him. "and such a boy-scout leader wouldn't be hypocritical would he?"

Rosenstein stood quickly. "Objection."

Mulroney waved a dismissive hand. "Withdrawn, no further questions.


	8. Chapter 8

All was quiet in the Centre Neptune Recreation Room when Jason stormed in and demanded that someone … namely Keyop … go fix him a drink. He didn't take the time to notice the unfamiliar ways the team were carrying themselves this evening. He didn't notice Princess sitting in an upright foetal position with her knees tight to her chest in the back window of the room, sightlessly staring out into the ocean. He didn't catch sight of Tiny lying on the floor with both hands under his head staring unblinking at the ceiling, three wrapped and uneaten Space Burgers surrounding him. Most surprising of all, he didn't notice his youngest teammate, sitting in the doorway, using the spare keys to the G-2 to absently cut deep scratches into one of his game CD's – even though he had to step over him to enter the room.

All he noticed was his own frustration, and the persistent headache that throbbed at the base of his skull.

It was Princess' voice, and the soft clink of a glass of rye being placed before him that finally pulled Jason out of his own selfishness.

"You did good, Jason. I know Mark would be proud of you."

He took a sip of the drink, wincing with the acrid flavour, then heavily wiped this hand down his face. "God, Prin," he said softly. "You're talking as if he's dead or something."

She placed a hand on his shoulder and apologised. "I just feel like he's not going to come back, even if he is acquitted."

Tiny joined them, slouching lazily in the rigid wooden chair of the dining table. "Hell, Princess, would you?"

Jason answered for her. "Fuck no."

She called Keyop over to the table and took a seat beside Tiny. "How does he look?"

"He looks like Mark in a suit."

Tiny offered a small smirk, "I think she meant…"

"I know what she meant, big guy. But I'm sorry, I just don't sit there and analyze his image like she does." He removed a beat-up pack of cigarettes from his jean pocket and tapped a stick out. "He seems healthy enough, I guess, if that's what you want to hear."

Princess watched him cup his hands over he cigarette to light it and tapped her fingertips on the table. "The Prosecution pretty much has him tried and sentenced already, don't they?"

Jason glanced up over his cupped hands then inhaled as he shook out the flaming match. "Looks like it."

"I think he's got us all tried and convicted," Tiny offered with a shrug. "He seemed more interested in your antics than Mark's.

"Which means you'd better tread careful. You were suspended for sleeping on the job, remember, and when that asshole finds out about the airbrakes being left on…consider yourself toast."

Tiny swiped his hand through the air to clear his face of cigarette smoke. "That was in the beginning of the war, Jason. And the air brakes. If either of you had bothered to check the alarm console, you'd have seen a big red light flashing the message to you." He humphed. "Mark is supposed to be an ace pilot and he couldn't figure it out? Aircrafts only get sluggish when there is a problem with the flaps…duh…that's flight 101."

"Hey, don't go blaming him, man. You should have remembered to disengage them when you put her in hover." He turned to Princess. "Mulroney's going to crucify you, too. You realize that, don't you?"

She blinked in genuine shock and sat up straight in her chair. "How? I am obedient and thorough, I try my very best to not do anything wrong."

"And you're in love with your Commander."

She immediately blushed and brought her hands to her mouth in embarrassment. "I … I am not."

Beside her, Keyop made kissy sounds, Tiny softly called out Mark's name in Princess' trademark swoon, and Jason snorted into his rye in amusement. "Of course not."

She pseudo-arrogantly turned and raised her head, and set her hands on her hips. "What would any of you know about a woman's feelings?"

Jason's eyes smiled and shifted into the direction of Tiny, who was chuckling behind his hand. "I think I recognise the popping balloon hearts and the batting lids of an enamoured woman, Princess." He drew back deeply on his cigarette to burn the tobacco to the butt, then held it inside him for a second before blowing it up to the ceiling. "The guys and I have had bets in place for well over 12 months on how long it'll take until you two finally do it."

Her eyes were wide and horrified – surely she'd been more discrete than that. "Do…what?"

"Bump uglies," Jason said through a smoking-related cough.

"Do the horizontal mambo," Tiny added, making swayed dance motions with his arms.

"Park the purple family wagon," Jason snorted.

"Taxi the plane into the hangar."

Jason gave a low chuckle and began to hum and sound out seventies-style porn music, "chica chica bow wow…bow wow chica bow."

Tiny puffed up his chest and lowered his voice a'la Barry White, "C'mon foxy lady, let's get our freak on…"

"Yeah," Keyop tried to include, "smoochie-woochie, Markey-Warkey."

Jason and Tiny paused, looked at each other, then exploded into laughter.

Tiny patted Keyop on the back. "Good one, kid."

Princess, quiet through the exchange, finally cleared her throat in complete disgust. "Are we all finished having fun at my expense?"

Jason looked apologetically at her and threw his head back to drain his small class of rye. "Ahh, sorry, Princess. I guess I just needed that."

Tiny nodded in agreement. "Totally."

"Oh, and you think that it's okay to be here with our freedom, laughing it up and having a good time when Mark is in a six by nine cell eating stale bread and being friended by Bubba and his creeps? Huh?"

Jason held up both hands defensively. "Hey, hey, hey, Prin. I love you and all, but you really need to lighten up. Mark can handle himself, and I am sure it isn't as bad as you think."

"Yeah," Tiny added thoughtfully. "They even have TV's and stuff in there. He's probably watching Jerry Springer or something to keep him occupied."

She folded her arms over her chest and humphed. "Well I seem to recall him saying to Jason that he was taking a real beating in there. It seems more likely that he's being cornered in his cell…or…" she raised her hands to her mouth. "Or worse."

Jason figured he'd better stop her before her imagination forced her to go break Mark out of prison. "Woah there, girl. Mark would NOT let anything like that happen to him."

"Can you promise me that?"

He adopted a more serious expression and nodded. "Princess … babe. Mark would kill a man before he'd take it up the ass by a guy named Bubba."

"Do you really have to be so crass, Jason?" She rose from her chair and snatched the glass off the table. "I can't believe you're taking this all so lightly."

Jason let out a warning sigh and pushed himself out of his seat. "Princess…."

She slammed the glass on the table, startling Keyop, who had started to fall asleep with his forehead on the table. "Do you even know what goes on in there? Do you?" She was remarkably controlled, but close to losing it. "Have you ever been in there? Have you…"

"Damn it, Princess!" He boomed finally, hoping to halt her before she became hysterical. "None of us know, okay? Mark assured me he's fine, and I have no reason to believe he isn't."

Her eyes widened and dampened. "But…"

"If he can single-handedly take on a squadron of Spectran goons, then I think he is more than capable of defending himself against a handful of wannabe gangsters in a jail." He walked to her and cupped her face in his hands, stooping his head to meet her eyes. "Look at me, Prin."

She raised her head and inhaled a sob.

"Mark is going to be fine. You need to concentrate on tomorrow, and how you're going to handle the Prosecution. He needs that more than you losing sleep over whether or not he's sleeping with one eye open."

Her body shuddered with each breath as she attempted not crying. "It's just so hard. We are all to blame, he shouldn't be doing this alone."

Jason looked toward Tiny and Keyop. "Guys?"

"Yeah," Tiny whispered, taking the hint. "C'mon Keyop. Let's get you to bed."

He nodded in thanks, waiting until they'd left the room to pull her into a tight hug. "Prin, I know this is upsetting you … It's upsetting all of us. But you need to pull it together and try to be stronger than this."

She nodded.

"If you go in there tomorrow feeling like this, he'll eat you alive."

She closed her eyes tightly and let her tears roll down her cheeks. "I know."

"Damn it, girl. You're the Swan. You're tougher than this."

She nuzzled her face into his shoulder and mumbled something he couldn't understand.

"We'll be there for you tomorrow. All of us. " He smiled. "Go in there and eat him alive, girl. You show that big piece of turd just how wrong it is to piss off a Swan."


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the reviews and for the questions I need to address ... I will get to all of them at some point, I promise.

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Media was definitely a woman Princess wasn't comfortable with. She couldn't deal with the frenzied flash of cameras whenever she and the team were out in the public forum. Scenes such as this were for movie stars and rockers. She was just a little soldier and really didn't understand what all of the fuss was about. Her opinion on Paparazzi and journalists in general was fairly low. Many times she'd shared a grumble with one of her friends about the vulturistc nature of the press. They were so quick to leap all over a mistake or mishap in the name of sensationalism, but heaven forbid they act so quickly when it came to something good in the world.

Their presence along the road leading toward the courthouse was a perfect example of such. Mark had made only one error in his years of command that led to fatality … one … yet this is what they reported on, what they slept on the streets for, and what they beat each other up to get the best angle on.

It made her sick to her stomach.

Her ride into the courthouse parking lot was considerably more uncomfortable and irritating than Jason's had been. He'd at least had some form of protection against the grabbing and groping masses. She had nothing. She was positive that she must have lost part of her skirt in a tug-of-war against her bike and a fan.

Even with a police escort, she couldn't make it through fast and untouched. By the time she pulled into a parking space she was already exhausted. She allowed herself the briefest moment to catch her breath and calm herself enough not to want to start throwing flash charges around, then climbed off the bike.

Of course the moment she kicked her leg to dismount, the unmistakable flash of the cameras began, no doubt the paparazzi looking to get that $1 million shot of her panties. The thought of it brought her hand to her mouth and she found herself jogging and hiding herself behind her hand to get inside the building.

"_Princess!"_ One reporter yelled at her as she passed. _"How do you feel about the Eagle being locked up?"_

"_Are you and Mark involved?"_ another called from the front. _"Is he your lover?"_

"_Princess?"_ yet another. _"What will this mean if Spectra attack again? Will G-Force be able to fight with one man down? Is there a replacement Eagle?"_

"_Is the Condor happy to be in Command of the team?"_

All she wanted to do was tell them to all back off and leave them alone in peace. What business was it of anyone outside of the courthouse and team what was going on? How could they do this?

She ran into the main courthouse entrance and gasped at the throng of people inside. Disbelief and mental exhaustion saw her press her back into the window and thread both hands up under her visor as she dropped her head and all but collapsed.

"I can't do this," she chanted to herself. "I can't.

She knew photographers were snapping pictures of her back. She knew those vultures were gleefully flashing dollar signs from their eyes. They were watching, they were taking notes …

She raised her face, but not her posture, and tugged down at her skirt. Length, why didn't they give her just a couple more inches? Why did it have to be so short?

Her name softly crooned in from ahead of her. She raised her eyes and felt her whole body give in to the emotion. She actually seemed to slump a little before she took off toward the owner of the voice and threw herself at him.

"Mark!"

Mark, dressed in a navy-blue pinstripe suit and tie, gladly took her in his arms and actually smiled. "Princess. Come now, why are you so upset?"

Rather than pull back, her body pulled down. She had to cran her neck back in order to look up at him, and did so with the most desperate and pleading look. "Are you okay?"

He wiped at a tear with his thumb and offered her his most brilliant smile. "Looks like I should be asking you that question."

She could have sworn she saw a twinkle in his eye and found herself suddenly shy. She tilted her head and straightened her body. "You look handsome in a suit," she managed in a complete topic change that immediately turned her red.

He actually gave a laugh. "Flattery will get you everywhere." He let her out of his hold and slouched with his back against the wall. He hid a wince when he tried to slide both hands into his pockets and his wrist gave a sharp sting. He shook it gently and let it hang at his side. "So. How is everyone?"

Her eyes fell to the bulge of a cast on his left arm. She gasped and quickly took his arm gently in hers. "What happened?"

Mark's voice was somewhat apologetic as he watched her timidly pull back the sleeve of his jacket to assess the plaster casing. "I had a little accident in the shower."

Her eyes rose suspiciously and her voice slid out of her doubtfully. "At the hands of another?"

"No," he lied quickly. "Just a little slip and fall on wet stainless steel." He pulled back his arm from her and let out a sigh as he let it drop back to his side.

She didn't believe him, and her stare warned of just that. "You told Jason that the … " she screwed up her face in pause so as not to use a profanity to describe his prison mates. "That the men inside were giving you a hard time."

He nodded lightly. "I'm okay, Princess. I can handle myself in there okay."

"But why aren't you in protective custody?"

He looked over her shoulder at the window and shrugged. "I am for the most part. I only get put in the exercise yard with them for an hour or so." He saw her question before she had a chance to open her mouth. "And, yes, there are guards out there, too. Just sometimes the guys … you know."

She huffed and folded her arms against her chest. "This isn't fair, Mark."

"I know, Sweetheart," he replied softly. "We'll be back together as a team soon, okay?"

"Promise me?"

His smile was genuine as he placed his hand on her shoulder. "I promise you, Princess. I need to protect you out there, and I don't necessarily trust Jason to do it …" he smirked. "Within legal limits the first time you have a suitor."

She giggled lightly and shyly. "I only have interest in one potential suitor, Mark, and I think Jason will be okay with him."

His brows rose playfully. "Oh? Anyone I know?"

"My secret," she breathed as she batted her lashes in a stunningly feminine manner.

The move froze Mark's expression. He felt the slightest sting of jealousy, but opted not to open his mouth and comment lest he let out his own disappointment.

Uncomfortable silence fell between them for a brief moment. Around them were the hurried whispers and footsteps of the passers by. Princess watched with fear rising as she saw the room slowly empty of persons into the courtroom.

"Mark?"

"Yes, Princess?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "I'm scared."

"Don't be," he whispered softly in encouragement. "Just tell the truth and you'll be okay. Mulroney is an arrogant pig and will try to argue and manipulate everything you say, but tell the truth, try not to let him upset you and I know you'll make me proud."

She shook her head. "No. I'm not talking about that." She sighed heavily. "I'm frightened that this is all just going to …"

He stopped her with both hands clutching possessively at her shoulders. "Everything will be okay. Please stop worrying."

"And if Spectra attack?" Straight to the point.

"Then G-Force will defeat them like they always do."

Her head shook. "But without you…?"

He stared at her for a long moment, just committing her face to memory. He let his eyes scan her eyes, nose, lips and expression, and then drew her in to a tight hug. "We're a team, Princess, and a damn good one. You don't need me to lead you to win. If you, Jason, Keyop and Tiny all put your heads together then I know you'll do well."

"Will you come back to us?"

He pulled back sharply and gave her an astonished look. "What makes you think I wouldn't?"

She swept her hand in the air. "All this."

He raised his eyes to his lawyer as he signaled in a hurry. "Uh-oh, looks like we've been caught."

She immediately pulled away and clasped her hands behind her back. "Mr. Rosenstein, how are you?" She asked softly.

Rosenstein gave her a genuine smile of welcome before he tsk'ed and shook his head. "Morning, Princess. Mark, you know you aren't supposed to…"

"Let them stop me," Mark snarled brattily. "I'm supposed to be innocent until proven guilty; but here I am guilty trying to prove myself innocent."

Rosenstein gave a knowing nod. "I know Mark." His attention turned to Princess, who had lightly touched her hands to Mark's elbow in support. "You need to get ready, Princess. They'll be calling you in soon."

"I'm ready," she assured bravely.

"Great, then just wait here and they'll call you in soon." He pressed his hand to Mark's elbow and led him away from Princess and into the courtroom. "Do you believe anything you just told her, Mark?"

He tilted his head to him and kept his voice low. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough."

Mark shrugged but held his posture proud. "I don't believe a single word of it, Sir."

"So you lied to make her happy."

Mark paused and raised his hand in a request for pause. "There is nothing I wouldn't do to make that woman smile. If she worries, I worry. If she breaks, then we break right along with her. So if I have to lie and pretend to her to make sure she knows that everything will be okay so that she can actually sleep at night, then I will." He turned and continued to walk to the entrance. "She doesn't need to know the truth."

Rosenstein pressed his hand on the door and paused before pushing it open. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"I'm 19," he countered sharply, his response perfectly scripted. "What do I know about love?"

"I'm 58, and I know it when I see it."

Mark quietly took a seat and leaned his elbows on the desk. "As long as Mulroney can't see the same."

"You know that will come up, right?"

He nodded. "And you will object to each and every question he asks about it." He looked up as the bailiff requested all rise for the judge and drew himself to a stand. "Our feelings for each other, mutual as they may be, have never been acted on. It has never interfered in the course of any mission, nor impacted or had a role in any tactical decision I've ever made."

Rosenstein took a seat before Mark did, and waited for Mark to settle beside him. "She's going to be a great witness, Commander. I'll exploit her innocence and play up to the love people have for her to sway the Jury in our direction."

"Well, let's hope it works," Mark muttered softly. "If he upsets her I promise you that I'll end up pleading guilty just to make it stop."

The introduction of his Swan was called, and the whole courtroom hushed as the door opened.


	10. Chapter 10

"Please state your name for the court."

Princess dipped her head coyly and let her eyes sweep to every member of the Jury. "Sarah Ann Anderson, but everyone calls me Princess."

"May _I_ call you Princess?"

She smiled warmly. "Of course."

"So, Princess. What is your role on the G-Force team?"

She blew out a thoughtful breath through tight lips. "Oh. Well, there are explosives and demolitions. I am one of the team field medics. Covert Ops and reconnaissance. I monitor the radar and communications on the Phoenix." She crossed her legs at the knee and stretched her arms forward to set her fists on her knee and tilted her head up in thought. "It's kind of hard to be specific."

"If you had to?"

"Explosives, re-con and radar."

Rosenstein shared a look with the Jury and then turned back to the demure young brunette in the stand. "You were part of the mission that has led us here today?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes, of course."

"Would you please walk us through your version of events?"

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_The search for the suspected Spectran craft didn't take too long. 7-Zark-7 had suggested that the craft might have several anti-radar technologies on board, but within only a few seconds the console in front of her had begun to identify all regular air-controlled traffic and isolated only one that seemed suspicious. She had the ship's transponder send out a signal to receive the craft's identifier. When no known identifier was received, the Phoenix immediately assigned it suspicious and flashed a warning at the Swan. She reported the find to Mark._

"_We look to intercept with the craft about 300 miles off the cost, Commander."_

She shyly watched for his reaction and smiled when he offered her a thankful nod.

"_Is it just the one craft? Or are we looking at an entire Spectran platoon?"_

Princess brought a concentrating finger to her lips and looked harder at her screen. As yet the Phoenix was reporting only known crafts in the same vicinity. To be sure, however, she set the sweep along a wider trajectory. "So far it's just the one, Mark. But I'll do a sweep to make sure there isn't anything coming at us from another angle."

"Thanks, Princess. Jason, what have you got?"

_She smiled widely as she focused back on the console in front of her. As she tapped in new criteria for the search she sensed Keyop's face closing in on hers. She tilted her head at him in wait for what smart-alecky thing was about to roll out of his mouth._

_He didn't disappoint. ""Commanders' pet," he managed through brips and broops. "Lovey-Dovey."_

_She gasped and covered her mouth in her hands as she reddened. "Keyop!"_

_  
He gave her a laugh and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his legs in the lotus position and toyed with his bolas in obvious boredom. "Just waiting … for action."_

_She slapped at his knees in a motherly order for him to sit properly. "Keyop, put your legs down and sit properly. If Tiny has to make any sudden moves you'll fall off and hurt yourself."_

"_Big boy," he snapped back. "Can look after myself."_

_Even tough she was seated, she set her hands on her hips. "Oh can you just?" she snapped; only ceasing her chiding when her alarm chimed in an emergency message. She looked down at the screen and found a civilian aircraft flagged in red on her display. "Oh my," she breathed as she double tapped her finger on the monitor to call up the warning information. Her heart rose into her throat when the information flashed on her screen with a warning from the FAA for all craft to divert from specific airspace. An A-380 heavy had declared a Mayday._

_Her eyes widened and she gasped loudly, immediately eliciting the attention of her Commander. He was at her side in a second._

"_What's wrong, Princess? Did you find more enemy craft?"_

_She shook her head, completely ignoring the fact he was practically leaning on her; one hand on the back of her chair, the other on the console beside her hand. "No, Mark. It looks like we have a wounded bird out there. They've called a mayday."_

"_How large a bird?"_

"_Looks like a 380."_

"_Airbus?" He leaned over her and tapped a few keys on her keyboard to expand the image. _

"_My God, Mark. That plane can carry hundreds of people."_

"_I know," he replied softly. "And I hope you're wrong."_

_His hopes for that were dashed as the Phoenix coordinated with the satellite above them to zoom in on the craft in question. It was certainly an Airbus, and it was most definitely in trouble._

"_Dammit!" He cursed as he pushed himself to a stand and stalked to the front of the Command deck. He pushed himself between Jason and Tiny and punched a large blue button on the console. The entire front window immediately flashed into a replica of Princess' screen._  
_Princess slid out of her chair and wandered slowly up behind Mark and Jason in an attempt to find her way into the conversation, She heard Mark ask if the White House had been evacuated and Jason's reply. _

"Tiny, I need you to make contact with the co-pilot on that plane, find out how in the Hell the Captain ended up hanging outside his window and what circuit damage they've sustained. See if we can be of any help to them." He maintained focus on the image ahead of them and let out a growl. "Keyop, calculate the airspeed and direction of that plane. If they are headed toward anywhere there's civilians on the ground, I need to know ASAP!"

Princess watched Jason rise up next to Mark to growl something in his ear, but was unable to make out what the threat, argument or complaint was. Tiny's voice thankfully took her mind off trying to work it out.

"There's 538 souls on board that thing, Mark. There was a bird strike on the front window, the decompression sucked the Captain out of his seat. The Co-pilot is asking for our help in bringing her down, navigation is shot."

_She had communicated this intelligence with 7-Zark-7 only a few minutes beforehand. "I've already contacted Centre Neptune. They confirm the complete evacuation of the White House." She was close to tears.  
_  
_"Decision is yours, Mark." Jason muttered – Princess just knew he ready to get testy if Mark decided on the wrong thing. "Save a national landmark and cost the Federation some money, or do what we're paid to do and save the innocent."_  
_Tiny spoke up first. "I've done some simulation on the A-380. I think I can manually bring her in for a landing. You just need to get me on board."  
_  
_Princess let out a short yelp of surprise as Keyop nudged past her to duck in between Jason and Mark. He began to nervously beep and tick, stuttering to try and get out his report. "Headed…to theme park. Thousands on … broot … ground." His hands shook holding a computer print-out. "twenty minutes to impact."  
_  
_Mark coolly slid his eyes to his second. "Jason, can we get Tiny and I on board and send you, Princess and Keyop to intercept the mecha at the White House?"_

Her attention fell to her commander as she waited for him to make any orders. Mark finally nodded and pulled his wings closed at his chest. "Tiny, Keyop, what do you have for me?"

_Princess opened her mouth to respond, but swallowed her words with a gasp as Jason cursed his own response._

"Fuck the White House, Mark. It's clear."

She touched Mark's arm as he lowered his head and sucked in a breath of air through his teeth. He snapped out of his thoughts quickly. "Tiny, slow this girl down to intercept with the jet. You go with Keyop in the G-4, I'll sit on your wing in the G-1." He turned to Jason. "I need you and Princess to remain back at a safe distance for pick up of the G-1 and 4 when we have Tiny on board. Monitor the Whitehouse craft. If you have to leave us to intercept, do it. We can catch up."

Jason nodded and tipped his visor at Princess. She knew at any moment he would say something unprofessional and … inappropriate. "Looks like it's just you and me, babe. Do you think we can keep our hormones in check and stay focused?"

She coughed and rolled her eyes at the comment, but Mark responded on her behalf.

"_Now isn't the time, Jason."_

Mark, Keyop and Tiny all jogged to the dome and were quickly gone.

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Rosenstein nodded gently in thanks. "Thank you, Princess."

Her lips pursed and she seemed a little excited. "Oh there's more."

"I know, and we will get back to that shortly."

He wandered, paced, a little in front of the stand. "You were the one who communicated this information with Centre Neptune?"

She slouched only a little and tipped her head to the side. "Yes. I wanted to save time so rather than waiting for Mark to ask me I figured that I'd take the proactive step."

"Is this normal?"

She bit on her bottom lip before answering. "The job is fairly autonomous when we're on the Phoenix. Mark has assigned us specific roles and he trusts us to be able to read the order before he gives it."

"Yet he does double-check."

She nodded eagerly. "Oh, of course. Sometimes our time is limited to just seconds. It is better to get the information ahead of time than ask when we have only seconds to react." She smiled toward Mark seated at the table. "He's thorough."

Rosenstein saw her enamoured look at her Commander and stepped in between them to refocus her attention and lessen the possibility that the prosecution might see it. "Your intelligence information comes from where?"

"Centre Neptune," she answered quickly. "7-Zark-7 is our main source for information. He gathers, analyzes, then forwards anything pertinent to the mission at hand."

Rosenstein swept his hand in the air to indicate the jury. "Can you tell the jury who 7-Zark-7 is?"

She smiled and cast her eyes down in amusement before raising her gaze to the members in the Jury box. "7-Zark-7 is … sorry was … a robot that manned the main communications facility at Centre Neptune. He was the main hub between all surveillance stations throughout the galaxy, as well as the liaison between the Federation defense teams." Her eyes shifted to one side and a smile passed across her mouth. "He was the self-appointed father of all the G-Force team and had a human side to him that could at times be irritating." Her expression changed quickly into one to assure proper explanation. "Oh but he was very good. We always trusted his information."

"As you did in this case?"

She nodded and folded her hands on her knees. "Yes. He assured me that the White House was clear."

"And this is why your commander felt it appropriate to deviate from the original mission specs and save the jet?"

She nodded and looked toward the jury with wide eyes. "Mark's priority became rescuing potentially thousands of people over a building." Her eyes flicked back to Rosenstein. "I'm pretty sure that the women, children, and families of everyone who could have perished agree with Mark's decision. I know I do."

Rosenstein pursed his lips in thought. "Now your Condor stated that there was a communications malfunction during your Commander's absence. Is this accurate?"

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_Princess stared at the console in front of her. She wasn't really focusing on anything specific, just looking and thinking about the break in orders and new mission plan. She knew the American Public. She also knew 7-Zark-7 was having problematic intelligence errors. She wondered if them waiting on standby for orders from Mark to leave for the White House was really a good idea._

_She knew the Phoenix wouldn't be of much use without all of the team on board. Their best option was to wait for Mark and Keyop to return. She expressed her concern to the Condor. "Jason, do you think they'll make it?"_

His answer was smooth, somewhat teasing. "Doubting your boyfriend, Princess?"

She hated that snark. Why did he continually have to call Mark her boyfriend. She fairly growled "He is NOT my boyfriend" to him in response.

"Have patience, babe. He'll get around to introducing you to his lower brain soon enough."

"Ugh," she humphed in true disgust. And she was disgusted. Why did men always have to resort to crass comments? "Can we please get back to work?"

Jason shocked her as he slapped both hands on the forward console. "They've safely intercepted. Tiny should be onboard anytime now."

She leaned over his shoulder to look at the radar image of the White House. "Forty-five minutes to impact. Should we engage?"

"It'll only take us twenty to get there if we make this girl motor. Let's get the guys back on board, first. If we need to go fiery, we're going to need them."

She sucked in her lower lip to bite down on it. Why did Jason always have to tease her about her relationship – or lack if it – with Mark? Did he know something about him that she maybe didn't?

_  
She was so suddenly curious that she had to ask. "Jase, do you really think Mark is … you know? Interested?"_

She swore his tone smiled though his response. "I thought you wanted to concentrate on work?"

How embarrassing. "Sorry."

Jason flicked on the main communication line. "Skipper, what's the word? We're pushing for time, here."

Mark's response was contaminated by static. "For…out…ss …mo…t…ouse. Ti..an…… nav…… no…eed….wait… copy?"

She looked at Jason with wide eyes. "What did he just say?" Her mouth gaped open and closed a couple of times as she shook her head.

Jason flicked the comline off then on again. "Mark, you'll have to repeat, we are receiving mostly static. Did you say you wanted us to stand by?"

His response was marred by heavier static.

"Princess, can you fix it?"

She frowned. "Not in five seconds I can't. Keyop is the electronics kid, not me."

"Mark … Mark. We can't hear your orders. All we can hear is that you want us to wait. We'll stand by for your return."

Princess pursed her lips and titled her head, "are you sure we should wait?"

"The only complete word I could get out of that mess was wait. What do you think?"

She shrugged. "It's your call."


End file.
